


Replacements are a bitch

by whichstiel



Series: Season 13 Codas [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Episode Related, Episode: s13e07 War of the Worlds, M/M, Season/Series 13, Shopping, episode coda, mix tape, pre-episode: s13e07 war of the worlds, spn 13x07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 09:26:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12814560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichstiel/pseuds/whichstiel
Summary: Cas lost everything when he died so Dean takes him out to buy a new phone.This story takes place between episode 6 and 7.





	Replacements are a bitch

“We gotta get you a new phone.”

Castiel looked up with a pinched, distant look. “What was that?” he said, brows drawn low. He hovered over a glowing sigil on the table which surrounded a small paper map of the world. The map was entirely intact; his latest attempt at a locator spell had failed to locate Jack anywhere on the planet.

Dean leaned back in his chair, reaching his arms up over his head to crack his shoulders. “We gotta get you a new phone, man. For working cases. And, you know, this.” He nodded at the police blotter tracking software whirring out data on the laptop in front of him. “We might be blocked from finding him with magic, but local police are gonna be our friend. I'm sure of it. We'll find a hit soon and then we'll move out.”

Castiel frowned. “I suppose. But I--” He shifted on his feet and then sighed. “I don't have any money and I haven't yet had time to perpetrate credit card fraud.” He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. “It's been a busy few days.”

Dean snorted. “Never been truer words, my friend.” He tipped forward in his chair, the legs thudding against the floor with a sharp crack. “Dude, we got you covered. I gotta pick up a few things anyway. What'dya say we take a break and get that taken care of right now? Sam'll watch the readout.” He grinned as Sam entered the room, a fresh glass of water in hand. “Won't you, Sam?”

“What?” Sam set his glass down on the table and leveled a puzzled look at Dean as he slid back into his chair.

“Keep on eye on this stuff.” Dean waggled a finger between the two computers on the table. “Cas needs a phone.”

Sam's eyes flicked between them, then he took a slow sip of water from his glass as he leveled an inscrutable stare at Dean. “Sure,” he said, finally. “You guys head out. Maybe pick up some dinner on your way back?”

Dean tossed Sam a mock salute and pushed away from the table. He looked at Castiel expectantly. “Well? You coming?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean, inhaled as though about to speak, then looked down at the already fading sigil on the table. His shoulders slumped. “I...of course.”

“Great! Meet me at the car in ten. Just gotta grab my keys and take a piss.” Dean walked out of the library, the low murmur of Castiel passing instructions along to Sam following him down the hallway. He grabbed his keys from his bedside table and then pulled down the shoebox he kept on the low shelf lining the room. Inside was a jumble of badge holders, loose change, and a handful of credit cards. Dean riffled through the cards, pulling out one with a distant expiration date and John Bonham inscribed on it, and an illegible signature on the back strip. He slipped it into his back pocket and headed out.

Castiel was already waiting by the Impala when Dean arrived in the garage. He stood next to the passenger side, one finger lightly running along the chrome detailing in the door. There was a strange, fond smile on his face and it persisted when he looked up and caught Dean's eye. “It's odd to have missed a car,” he said sheepishly. “Yet I find that I have.”

Dean grinned as he walked around to the driver's side door. “Nothing strange about missing Baby,” he said. He dropped into the front seat and fished the credit card out of his pocket, proffering it to Castiel when he sat beside him. “This should tide you over 'til you get your own, man.”

Castiel took the card and slid it into an inner pocket of his coat. “Thank you, Dean.” He settled back into the seat and patted his pocket in a self-satisfied manner.

Dean shook his head fondly, feeling as though something wild and winged and ebullient was trying to push its way out from his chest. He fished in his pocket for his keys. “Well, let's get this show on the road,” he said. Then he started the car and they drove through the tunnel leading out of the bunker.

When they emerged into the afternoon light Dean blinked against it. It was sunnier than he had expected. The combination of winter's failing light and the absence of windows in the bunker played tricks with his perception of time. He leaned over to the glove box and began to rummage inside for his sunglasses. Castiel laid a gentle hand on his wrist, fingers circling his forearm as he moved Dean's hand away. He peered into the glove box and quickly plucked out Dean's sunglasses, handing them to him. His fingers slipped away from Dean's wrist as quickly as they'd arrived. Dean suppressed a shiver and flipped his sunglasses open, slipping them on. “Thanks, man.”

“You're welcome,” Castiel said, returning his hands to rest quietly in his lap.

The Impala chewed through the Kansas countryside as they traveled the backroads up towards the state line. The sky was fine and bright as a robin's egg above the golden, drying landscape. Dean found himself saying, not for the first time that day, “Good to have you back, Cas.” He glanced towards the passenger seat.

Castiel smiled warmly and the lines of his shoulders sloped into a more graceful curve as he relaxed further against the seat back. He turned away to stare out of the window at the passing scenery. “It's good to be back.” He craned his neck awkwardly, tilted his head so that sunshine met his face, and sighed deeply. “Did I tell you how I'd missed the sun?”

“No, man. But I believe it.” Dean snorted and tapped his fingertips against the steering column, as though playing along with an unheard tune. Finally, he said, “Did you dream there? In the Empty?”

“Mmm,” Castiel's reply was contemplative. “Not that I recall. I remember dying. And I remember waking up. Everything else is,” he shrugged loosely. “Supposition.” He glanced at Dean but looked away before Dean could meet his eye. “I perhaps understand better now how Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory became what they are. And the power of God's plan.” He shook his head. “I understand the depth of God's love for humanity a bit better, perhaps.”

Dean could find nothing to say to that at first, and Castiel reached over and switched on the radio. Aerosmith crooned through the car, filling the air between them. Then Dean took a deep breath and switched off the radio. He laid a hand on the seat just inches from Castiel's thigh, and said, “That's bullshit. You know that, right? You know I got beefs with just about every angel I ever met but...Cas. If anyone deserves paradise. Peace. It's you.”

Castiel was quiet for a long moment, then he dropped one hand from his lap to cover Dean's. He pressed Dean's fingers into the seat solidly, warmly. “Thank you,” he said quietly. Then, just as unexpected as the touch had been, Castiel drew his hand away.

After a few minutes, Dean flipped on the music again and they drove on to the shopping center in companionable silence, the road passing beneath them like a river.

* * *

Castiel sat outside the dressing room with one leg crossed casually over the other, stoically entering contacts into his new phone. Dean pushed open the dressing room door, tugging at the shirt he was considering buying. He smirked at Castiel. “Don't know why you bother putting those in. You obviously got 'em all in your head.” He shook his head in mock sorrow. “And considering how much we lose 'em. Or break 'em. Replacements are a bitch.”

Castiel looked up from his task with a frown. “It's for convenience,” he said defensively. “When I'm in a hurry, do I want to be typing in numbers? Or do I want to press a button and be connected immediately?” The phone drooped in his hand as he looked at Dean, who caught a glimpse of colorful icons alongside the name he was entering.

Dean crowed and pounced on the phone, seizing it from Castiel's hand. “Sam Winchester,” he read aloud. “Happy face. Dude with computer. Wizard.” He laughed and looked up from the phone. “Wizard?” he repeated. Castiel scowled and snatched for his phone but Dean danced out of reach. “That's just adorable.” He thumbed to the main directory and his heart stuttered for a moment as he looked at his own name. His entry was his name, followed by a cowboy, a sun, a burger, a pie, and a rabbit. He laughed and looked up towards the ceiling to cover the flush he felt rising to his ears. “I knew I shouldn't have told Sam about the rabbit.”

Castiel snatched his phone back, this time with a mischievous light in his eyes. “Well. That _was_ just adorable,” he said, lips quirking as though he was trying to contain a smile. “How could I resist?”

“Dude,” Dean said, backing away and tugging at the hem of the shirt he was wearing. “I cuddle one bunny in the woods. And now I'll never live it down.” He turned to look in the mirror bolted between the two dressing stalls. “How's this look? Too tight maybe?”

Castiel stared at him long enough for the silence to stretch into static tension between them, his eyes traveling along the lines of Dean's body revealed by the shirt. “I like it,” he said at last. Then he dropped his gaze to his phone again and, after a moment, resumed typing in numbers.

Dean tried to push down the hot feeling swelling in his chest, and went back to the dressing room to take off the shirt. He picked up two more on his way to the checkout. In their line of work he could always use a few new shirts.

* * *

They were almost back to the bunker, dinner wafting delicious scents from where it lay between them, when Dean asked, “Did you lose everything in your pockets?”

“I'm sorry?” Castiel looked away from the window to frown at Dean, absently patting the pockets of his coat as though feeling for the presence of his new phone and credit card.

“When you, uh, came back. Did you lose everything that was in your pockets?”

“I did. I suppose I'll need one of you to create a new identification card for me as well. Perhaps that's something we could do tomorrow?” he asked with a hopeful lilt at the end.

“Sure, man. Of course.” Dean began to tap his fingers against the steering column again and Castiel hummed thoughtfully.

“Dean,” Castiel said.

“Yeah?”

“What's on your mind?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Nothing,” he said, though the opposite was true. His head swam with the possibilities the future might hold, and the failures that paved his past. “Just...” He shrugged, keeping his eyes fixed on the center line so he wouldn't be tempted to lose himself in Castiel's endlessly magnetic eyes. “I should have...saved some things for you.”

“Dean, you had no way of knowing--”

Dean held up a hand. “I know. I know. But... I should have anyway.” He turned to Castiel and frowned at him. “We'll get everything replaced, okay?”

“Of course we will,” Castiel smiled at him in reassurance, though his brow was furrowed as though he was trying to puzzle something out.

“Okay,” Dean said and nodded as though they'd just arrived at a contract. “Okay.”

That night after Sam had gone to bed, Dean protested exhaustion as well. He went to his room and closed the door behind him, then strode to his bed. He bent down and pulled up an ancient dual tape deck boombox, then set it on his desk. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the two Zepp tapes he'd grabbed from the box in the car. Dean set one tape on the desk and slipped the other into the left tape deck. Then he pulled out a new blank tape from the five pack he'd managed to find at a dusty Electronix Shack outside of Omaha. Dean cracked open the case, pulled out the cassette, and set it on the desk. Then he grabbed a pen from the drawer and wrote, “Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx.” He paused for a moment, clicking the pen absently in his hand. Then he scribbled a tiny heart at the end of it, slipped it into the tape deck, and began to record.

**Author's Note:**

>  _wails into the night_ The mix taaaaaaaaape
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/whichstiel) and [Tumblr](http://whichstiel.tumblr.com/) @ whichstiel. You may also like the Supernatural recap and gif blog I co-write/curate, [Shirtless Sammy](https://shirtlesssammy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
